


The Price We Paid

by OldTsuki



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Horcruxes, M/M, Marauders Friendship, Marauders' Era, Post-Marauders' Era, The Marauder's Map, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 15:42:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13573698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OldTsuki/pseuds/OldTsuki
Summary: What if the spell that repelled Professor Snape when he tried to force his way into the Marauder's Map was more than just a "charm to insult Severus Snape"? What if this indicated that the Map was much, much more complicated than anyone realized? Maybe more complicated than even its creators realized?





	The Price We Paid

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a head canon found here: http://leviohhsa.tumblr.com/post/170288596104/the-marauders-map-a-horcrux
> 
> Thank you, leviohhsa, for sharing your friend's idea! I said I wanted to write a mountain of fan fiction, and it's not quite a mountain as much as it's a long drabble of stream-of-consciousness from Sirius Black.
> 
> My apologies if there are any errors, it's been quite some time since I dabbled in this fandom. Hints at wolfstar, although it's not explicit by any means. I tried to stick with the canon as much as I could remember. Also I did my best to make sure that Peter wasn't a deplorable kid...after all, he was close enough to the rest that Sirius trusted him more than Remus.
> 
> And so, without further ado...
> 
> __________________________________

It began as a curiosity, after Sirius nicked a thick volume from the family’s study that James pointed out in the Restricted Section of the school library. “Oh,” said Sirius at the time. “We’ve got that one at home, I’ll bring it after the holiday.”

 

Maybe they were in their second year, maybe their third. They were in the library looking for information on animagus transfiguration, bumping elbows beneath the Potters’ cloak as they skimmed the gold gilt titles of the dusty tomes by wand-light. _Transfiguring Destiny_ it was called, if his recollections were correct. Knowing that it was focused on the right subject, at least, they added it to their reading list.

 

Sirius should have expected that nothing good could come from Grimmauld Place, but they were so painfully young when they began their research. He and James were always reading over thick old volumes at night, saving the chapters particularly focused on the topic of the animagus transfiguration for the evenings when Remus was “sick”. It gave many the erroneous impression that they were studious. Add to that the complication that they suddenly found their transfiguration lessons painfully dull, and they began to cultivate a reputation as some of the most clever students in the school.

 

It drove Evans insane. She was always prattling on about using their intelligence for _useful_ pursuits. They quite enjoyed thinking of new and inventive pranks, working out advanced spells for the sake of laughs more often than not. They didn’t do it to impress her or irritate her—she was simply a voice on the sidelines.

 

Before that, the idea for the map came from the Potters, of course. Their bloodline was nearly extinguished, with James carrying the hope of the family name on to the next generation. Both attended Hogwarts in their time. They held no qualms about bedtime stories involving the enchanted castle and all its storied occupants. The idea was brewing before James even boarded the train, before he took his first unsupervised broom flight about the garden, before he’d held his first wand. 

 

From all the tales of Hogwarts, it was painfully clear that no one was ever able to catalog all the castle’s mysteries. The idea was to be the first. They’d leave their mark on the history of the castle as magical cartographers.

 

“But not just a map,” said James, perhaps on their first night in the dorm together. “We have to make a map that’s better than other maps.”

 

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Any baby can make a map,” he complained. He was already bored.

 

Remus was thinking, his brows drawing up as he considered the idea. “There are secret passages,” he commented. That got the full attention of the others. “I know a few, from…from my dad,” his voice faltered, but he recovered quickly. “I’m sure there are more to find.”

 

Peter was still trying to undo a hex that turned his hands the color of vomit, wrought by an errant Slytherin just before dinner. Looking up, he said, “It would be useful if it displayed the position of everyone inside the castle. Keep us from any more unpleasant encounters in the halls.”

 

“Genius!” said James, clapping the reluctant Sirius on the shoulder. “We can avoid McGonagall, and Slughorn, and _Filch_ …if we knew where everyone was, we could do anything we wanted in this school.”

 

It did have practical applications for avoiding undesirable relatives. Sirius began to consider. “I’ve heard of a charm that should do that,” he commented. At least his dad’s paranoia served Sirius some bit of use. “Shouldn’t be too difficult for us if we read up on it a bit.”

 

“Then it’s settled,” said James. At eleven, they had their goal in mind.

 

Complications came later. Unexplained injuries, weeks in the hospital wing, disappearances…it only took a few months to work out that they happened regularly, that they coincided with the moon. That led them to the conclusion that they needed to stick by their clever, brilliant friend. Whatever that might take, they simply didn’t like the idea of his isolated misery.

 

As they poured over the books, they developed their second (secret) purpose without involving Remus. He thought that they were constantly researching for the sake of the map, looking for ways to make it even more clever. It was in pursuit of their gift to him that they stumbled across one of the most advanced magical theories any of the pureblooded young wizards ever encountered.

 

When Sirius nicked the tome from home, he expected to find the answers they were seeking for the animagus transformation. Instead, they found themselves reading about imbibing objects with the essence of a wizard. In theory, it would allow the object to assume the personality of the spell caster and protect the object from destruction.

 

It wouldn’t be until much later, once the war irreparably annihilated their boyhood friendships, that Sirius would come to understand the price they paid for that bit of magic. That summer, he and James sent countless owls back and forth discussing the particular details of the theory. This would be the best way to complete their map. This would make it unique. This would be the crown jewel of their years of research. All the nights spent walking the corridors, drawing, and reading, reading, reading…it would all be worth it once this spell was complete.

 

Only Remus had misgivings. Of course, he was worried that the essence of the wolf would taint their project. That was why James and Sirius suggested making the script as formal as possible. The unchained wrath of the wolf was the opposite of Moony’s carefully maintained persona by day.

 

The spell involved some writing, but they were already used to that. It took them the better part of the second term. Peter had to be helped a bit, encouraged to complete his portion.

 

They planned to work the magic at the mid-month, when Remus was at the peak of his strength. The Homonculous Charm was already working brilliantly. Hesitating as they admired their handiwork, the four friends watched a dot labeled “Severus Snape” travel in and out of the Slytherin dormitory’s loo. Sirius noted absently that “Regulus Black” was near the kitchens and snorted to himself. Bloody git couldn’t keep himself away from the bloody house elves, even at school.

 

It should have been a clue that they were in over their heads the moment they realized that casting the spell _hurt_. Nothing ever made them back down before, and though Peter was the only one to voice his concerns, they plunged stupidly onward. Sirius just wanted to see it through to prove that he could do it—he’d never come across a bit of magic he couldn’t accomplish without enough study. The animagaus transfiguration took them three years, but they were successful in the end. Maybe Remus just had a high tolerance for pain, and so he plunged onward with the rest.

 

Casting the spell felt as if their bodies were on fire, as if a sword plunged through their chests and into their bellies, and the sword was burning hot. They found for a few hours that none were able to remove their hands from the parchment without feeling a horrible wrenching within their chests. Sirius wondered if the parchment was absorbing their life forces. People died from mis-casting spells all the time.

 

This wasn’t the same as the Homonculous Charm, not by any means. For that, they’d simply said the right words and pointed their wants, then marveled at the signs of their genius as ink spread across the page. Peter was the true artist of the group, and his careful renderings of each hall and passageway sprang to life now that magical individuals were strolling about it. 

 

Their protective spell was much different. Sirius should have expected that only dark magic would come from his ancestral home, but he realized it far too late. Truly, what would it harm, if they dabbled a bit in darkness to keep the product of years of research safe from prying eyes? But people did die accidentally when they tried spells unsuccessfully sometimes, and how could they tell if this spell worked, or if it was killing them?

 

Finally, as the first rays of the sun began to peak over the horizon, he was able to pry one hand away from the sheet. It felt as if something unseen was tearing within him, but Sirius gritted his teeth and pulled anyway. Nothing worse than a bludger to the head, nothing that a few hours of sleep and some butterbeer wouldn’t fix. The pain had lessened as more time came between them and the casting of the spell.

 

James was braver, pulling off one hand and then the other in quick succession. He collapsed to the ground, his chest heaving as if he was coming down from a particularly grueling practice. Sirius realized that a cold sweat was breaking over his own face, and he pulled his other hand away from the sheet before he could stop himself.

 

That invisible tear felt complete, as if there was a sort of scab over his diaphragm. Sirius took a moment to catch his breath, watching Peter and Remus wrestle with the spell. 

 

Remus was the next to disengage, wincing as he slowly pried one finger from the map at a time. Peter was whimpering, as he did sometimes before when their attempts at transfiguration had gone terribly wrong, when Sirius held his tail as James worked the severing charm. In this case, there was no way they could pry the parchment away for him. They would have to wait until he was prepared to do it himself.

 

The sun was fully over the horizon, now. “C’mon, mate, just get it over with,” James said softly from the ground. He’d caught his breath at last, and when he looked at Sirius his eyes held the sort of worried betrayal that Sirius expected to find. Of course, when they began to study the spell he wasn’t thinking about the _type_ of magic they’d be rendering, they were too caught up in the perfection of their scheme.

 

Peter cried amidst his whimpering as he pried his hands away from the parchment, getting his right free first. He rubbed it on the side of his robes as if that would erase the stinging, his brows lowering as he tugged at the other. The parchment finally fell to the ground. After the months they’d spent safeguarding their project, it seemed almost sacrilegious to see it lying there.

 

Sirius ran his hands through his hair and stared at his companions. “Well, blokes, let’s see if it worked.”

 

They stared at him like he’d spoken another language. Without touching the parchment directly, he flipped it over with his wand. 

 

Peter’s careful drawings were entirely gone, as were the mesmerizing moving dots of the Homonculous Charm. To all in the room, it looked like a blank but slightly worn piece of ordinary parchment. Sirius pointed his wand at the surface and said, “I solemnly swear that I’m up to no good.”

 

Ink blossomed across the surface. He looked up at James, the shadow of a smile playing over his face. “Looks like it worked,” he said.

 

Remus crawled forward, frowning. “We won’t know if it truly worked until we let someone try reading it without the passcode.”

 

Sirius shrugged. “As long as it disappears and reappears with the passcode, it does what we wanted it to do.”

 

James was tending to Peter. “You alright, mate?” he asked, summoning a bit of chocolate from Remus’s bedside table. Peter gestured it away, still frowning.

 

“Yeah,” he said vaguely. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

 

It wouldn’t be until years later that Sirius began to suspect the full consequences of that spell were far graver than they’d originally experienced. He noticed it in bits and pieces. From that point forward, James was even more kind to those around him. They returned from the summer holidays and he was positively sweet to Severus, his old rival. Even Lily Evans noticed the new, seemingly improved, Potter. 

 

Sirius finally got up the balls to leave his parents’ home, and he spent the summer with James. The Potters were welcoming and cordial, a model family. But Sirius found more and more that he couldn’t keep himself from oscillating between volcanic anger and good cheer. He wondered often what was wrong with his mind.

 

Remus and Peter changed, too. Remus was more solitary than before, so convinced that he didn’t deserve his friends that he isolated himself from them at every opportunity. Peter was still in good cheer, but he grew to be more quiet than ever.

 

The war took its toll on them, of course. It widened the cracks in their already crumbling foundations. As the death toll increased, they  became less and less certain of who they could trust. Finally, Sirius was desperately trying to cling to the family he’d chosen. He was alone in the world and so was James, after Dragon Pox brought down his parents, and they were tasked by the elder Potters with protecting one another.

 

It was his fault that it happened, in the end. He’d suspected the wrong wizard, he’d hidden the secret in the wrong place, and James paid the ultimate price for it. The story played out like a bad film, and Sirius was only partially conscious of what was happening as he gave Hagrid the motorbike he and James worked so hard to enchant years before. He was finally going to take a leaf out of his blood family’s books, get revenge against the person who betrayed the only people he cared for in this world.

 

When it came to it, Sirius was standing in the street as Peter looked at him with an expression of unbridled hatred. Why hadn’t Sirius realized, when they cast the spell? The tearing had been a part of themselves leaving their bodies, it had been their souls getting ripped apart. For himself, for James, and perhaps for Remus it was the darkest bits of their minds. The pieces of their consciousness that could be the most cruel, thought of the worst pranks. For Peter, it must have been the bit that the hat saw when it sorted him. It must have been his honesty, or his bravery, or both.

 

He wanted to say the words. He’d seen the green light of the spell often enough, the unforgivable curse that must have been the last thing James saw as he protected Lily and their infant son. Sirius could feel the words brewing within himself, but no matter how he tried he couldn’t summon them to his lips. He raised his wand, eyes wild, and Peter smirked. 

 

The explosion knocked Sirius back off his feet. For a time, all he heard was the screaming of the muggles as they counted the dead. He lay there and laughed amidst the tears that streamed down his cheeks. 

 

He must have cut out the part of himself that could have done it. The most evil bits of his Blackness, which the hat paused to consider when it undertook his sorting. The bits that could have murdered Peter for his betrayal, could have convinced his friends to use the most advanced piece of dark magic that once graced the shelves of Grimmauld Place.

 

And didn’t he deserve Azkaban, then? He was taken there without a trial. The injustice didn’t even occur to Sirius as his mind ran through a gamut of realizations, mostly about the past. He lay in his cell as he’d lain in the street, shifting aimlessly between canine and man when the cries within his own mind became too much to bear.

 

He wondered if Remus realized what they’d done. Perhaps James realized as soon as they took their hands from the page. Perhaps that was why he’d looked so betrayed as he gazed at Sirius, who hadn’t been clever enough to realize until the war claimed its dead.

 

He thought of Harry while he was in prison. The baby’s blue eyes sparkling as he played with his toy broom, the only gift Sirius was able to give to him. He wondered how Lily managed to protect him, at last. What sort of price she’d paid for the magic she’d rendered on her own son. At least she was doing it to protect their child, not a joke map made by a couple of callow boys to cause trouble at school.

 

When Sirius made his historic escape, when he looked at thirteen-year-old Harry in the alley nearby Lily’s sister’s house, he knew. Those unmistakable green eyes looked back at him, and he knew exactly what price Lily paid to protect him.

 

If he was honest about it, he never expected to hold the parchment again after they’d left it with Filch. Another page in their legacy. They’d allowed him to capture the map, made sure that he knew it was valuable, then graduated. The war shifted their focus to larger ambitions.

 

After Harry rescued him, after he’d flown a hippogriff into the night, after he and Remus unlocked the door of the Lupin’s remote hunting lodge and cleared away the spiderwebs filling the mud room, they’d finally met one another’s eyes. A prison of two different kinds ravaged them both, aged them, transfigured them. If Sirius was trapped in a literal prison, then Remus passed twelve years occupying one in his own mind.

 

He sank into a chair before the fireplace, looking over as Remus gestured and caused flames to erupt on the hearth. Claw marks covered the walls of the single-room cabin, a testimony to its moonlight inhabitant. The Lupins bought this place years before to give their son a refuge, safely distant from wizards and muggles alike. While Remus was at Hogwarts, it awaited the return of its reluctant master.

 

Unkempt hair falling over his eyes, Remus sank into the chair opposite Sirius. Every inch of him, from his posture to his expression, exuded exhaustion. He allowed their eyes to meet at last. “The map,” said Sirius, his voice rasping from disuse. “Should we—“

 

“Tell him?” Remus offered, interrupting. “What it is? He wouldn’t have the faintest idea. He’s clever, Sirius, don’t get me wrong. But he’s naive, he didn’t grow up in the wizarding world like you and James.”

 

Sirius ran his hands through his hair. “If it’s really—if we—then, James—“ he couldn’t form the words properly, couldn’t chase down his own thoughts quickly enough to spit out a coherent sentence.

 

Luckily, Remus understood. “I’ve considered that ever since I saw it speak to Severus,” he said calmly.

 

Sirius started up, so alarmed that he couldn’t sit another moment. “Speak?!” he squawked. “Bloody hell, Moony, then it’s definitely—“

 

“The only bit of James that’s still capable of helping his son,” Remus said smoothly, his hazel eyes working more calm on Sirius than a spell. “Whatever it did to us, to Wormtail, we can’t take that away from Harry.”

 

Sirius ran a hand over his face, his palm scratching on his own stubble. When they’d enchanted the map, he hadn’t even been able to grow stubble yet. They’d been so terribly young, so terribly stupid. Why hadn’t he known that nothing good could come from his ancestral home?

 

Remus was standing now, catching the hand in his own. His skin was calloused and scarred, much more thoroughly than Sirius remembered. There was still ink on his fingers from his tenure at the school, before Severus did what he does best and ruined Moony’s chances of returning another term. Sirius felt the wrathful thoughts roiling through himself and he was mature enough to consider, at least in some small part of his mind, that this was still the price of the map causing him to flip from thought to thought without pause. He held Moony’s hand more firmly and took a deep breath, closing his eyes.

 

Whatever they might have done, Remus was right. They couldn’t take that from Harry, even if he didn’t fully understand what it was.

 

They found comfort together in their brokenness, each understanding the other’s peculiarities in a way that no other witch or wizard could comprehend. Knowing what they knew about one another, they had more patience for the mood swings and the misgivings than could reasonably be expected in any sort of partnership. When Moony insisted that everyone always disliked him, even though they’d become animagus for him, Sirius patiently listened and reminded him that they’d always loved him and that Sirius always would. When Sirius raged one moment and joked the next, Remus soothed and laughed appropriately. In a way, they were like mirrored fragments of their former selves.

 

Whatever comfort Harry got from knowing them both, at least they could give that to James and Lily’s son. Sirius tried his best to respond to owls and offer advice, but he knew that Lily would have had his head over some of the suggestions that he provided for Harry. Remus nearly insisted on proofreading his letters after Sirius slipped some of the things he’d suggested in their evening conversations.

 

As the second war developed, Sirius and Remus clung together with a fierce devotion that only veterans of the former conflict could understand. Every moment, he knew that it might be the last he’d spend with his friend, with the last bit of family he’d chosen. As they curled together in the moonlight, Sirius wondered whether he’d be able to live with his regrets if they survived. They were so prodigious that they hung like ghosts around him.

 

When they entered the Ministry, he couldn’t stop considering the two moments he’d lost with Peter. First in the street, and then in the Shack, he’d been too cowardly twice to say the words and end the rat’s traitorous life. As he faced his cousin Bellatrix’s insane laughter, he tried again and again to summon the courage to say the words. But that part of himself—the part that could kill another being, the part without remorse—was embedded in a slip of parchment in his godson’s school trunk.

 

He saw a glimpse of Remus as he tumbled backwards into the veil. Remus, whose scarred face was set with resignation. Remus, who’d survived a decade of loneliness as he battled the demons of his own mind alone. Remus, who never cried because of the moon, not when he was sick with anticipation before, not when he was aching with fresh wounds after. He was starting forward when Harry lunged and Remus was forced to catch him, to keep him from Bellatrix’s line of vision. Neither could do anything to help Sirius as he plunged backwards into the icy cold of nothingness.

 

With Remus and Harry imprinted in his mind as his last earthly sight, Sirius sighed. He’d passed through the archway and emerged on the other side without his body, but also not whole enough in spirit to become a ghost. As they left the chamber, he drifted behind. For a moment, he could have sworn that Albus looked directly at him.

 

He gradually became aware of other shades following the living. Of course, he could tell immediately that he was in the company of Lily and James. Whenever Sirius drifted near enough to Harry, he could sense their forms nearby.

 

Perhaps they weren’t evil enough in life to fully manifest as wraiths, like the Dark Lord did after his body was destroyed. Sirius could hardly muster enough strength to force his consciousness to look away from the living spirits he found himself tethered to. Watching Remus wed his cousin was painful enough, when Sirius couldn’t offer him the reassurance that he knew Remus needed. At least Harry was willing to stand up for Tonks before Teddy was born, putting Remus and his insecurities in his place.

 

It gave Sirius more comfort to see Harry drawing comfort from the map, just as Remus expected he would. As he struggled onward to his inevitable confrontation with evil, he used the map more and more often to check on those he’d left behind at the castle. At least Sirius, James, and Lily were able to offer him some comfort before he faced the Dark Lord and paid the ultimate price to break Voldemort’s unwitting enchantment.

 

Sirius felt Lily’s presence dissipate, shortly replaced by a familiar spirit that he’d been hoping to observe into old age. James, Sirius, Peter, and Remus found themselves observing Harry as he returned to the mortal plane and completed the impossible destiny that Dumbledore had orchestrated for him.

 

At least, so long as the map was in tact, they would be watching. They saw as James Sirius Potter II nicked the map from his father’s desk and returned it to its rightful home at Hogwarts. They saw as Harry aged, surpassing each of them at the age of their own deaths until he resembled Fleamont more than James. 

 

There were no words in this form of existence, nor any feelings really. They simply observed, unable to intervene. The marauders found that the troubles of the past hardly needed addressing in the afterlife. Whatever bits of their souls they had accidentally transferred into the map, they found that these wraiths seemed to encompass the rest of their beings. So long as that parchment remained, so would they.

 

_Mssr Moony presents his compliments, and reminds you that you should never tamper with magic you cannot possibly understand._

 

_Mssr Prongs agrees with Mssr Moony and would like to add that you’re a bloody fool for trying._

 

_Mssr Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that you thought such an elementary spell could reveal our secrets._

 

_Mssr Wormtail bids you well, and advises that you will do best in the future to mind your own business, you sneak._


End file.
